


Punish Me

by Lady Divine Coldflash (fhartz91)



Series: On His Knees [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Communication, Dom!Barry, Dom/sub Undertones, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Husbands, Kneeling, M/M, Romance, Sub!Len, talk of punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25962283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine%20Coldflash
Summary: The things that serve Barry should also serve Len, even if Len isn't his husband's sub. So when Barry comes home and finds Len kneeling in the dark, he's curious to find out why.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart, Captain Cold/The Flash
Series: On His Knees [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884352
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	Punish Me

**Author's Note:**

> A part two to 'Waiting on his Knees' but also written in concert with this post https://lady--divine.tumblr.com/post/623469849608372224/ds-and-bdsm-for-fanfiction-writers-the-mistake I made about D/s, BDSM, and communication, specifically as it's portrayed in fanfiction, which can be toxic due to lack of research or ignorance.

Barry spends the afternoon clock watching, tallying minutes as they flip by, anticipating them down to the millisecond so he can catch the numbers turn. He doesn’t need a clock to know the time, but it’s habit. It gives him something to do in the moments between everything else. But it also reminds him how damned slowly time moves. So he does his best to ignore it, hoping he can get so wrapped up in work that he forgets about the time, then be pleasantly surprised when he checks it and finds that half the day has gone by.

But no luck.

At most, he wastes six minutes.

But Barry zooms off the second the numbers switch from 7:59 to 8:00. He’s dying to get home, dying to get to his husband, more so tonight than any other night. He made Len a promise that he’s been lousy at keeping. He intends to fix that.

He intends to spend all night fixing it.

But above that, Barry has a feeling. Not a foreboding feeling, per se. Nothing urgent. He’d know if his husband were hurt, if for no other reason than Len would text every single contact he has programmed in his phone who knows Barry to let them know he’s in danger.

Len is a brave, strong, capable man, but he has no qualms calling in reinforcements en masse.

Still, Barry can’t get it out of his head that something is wrong.

It takes him no time at all to make it home, managing to expertly avoid Caitlin and her stack of files that have the potential to bog him down for an hour at least. He pauses at his door and puts an ear to the wood.

Nothing.

He can’t detect any movement.

He becomes anxious as he listens for a clue, as if whatever is going on with Len has found a way to settle inside his chest, latch itself to his ribs and crowd his heart and lungs. But their apartment is silent.

Completely silent.

And with Len, as with children, silence is not a comforting sign.

The hairs on the back of Barry’s neck begin to rise.

He unlocks the door and walks inside.

Darkness greets him.

Cold, too.

Unnatural cold.

And quiet.

But it’s not an easy quiet, like the simple quiet of no one being home. It’s a tension-filled quiet. An anticipating quiet.

A quiet like the world holding its breath, waiting for Barry’s next move.

And he’s not alone.

It takes a moment of quelling his stuttering heart and his eyes adjusting for him to notice his husband there, in the center of the room, shirtless and on his knees. Barry breathes a sigh of relief, but not one Len would notice. He goes about his business, doesn’t stop to stare, even if Leonard Snart on his knees makes Barry hotter than asphalt in August.

When he requests it.

And since Barry hadn’t, he has to process this image correctly. He does so by adopting his Dominant persona. It helps him think logically, react rationally, without emotion applied.

“Hello, Len,” Barry says, putting down his bag and hanging up his coat.

“Master,” Len says, more experimentally than confidently, and Barry knows why. Len isn’t sure how Barry will respond. Because this isn’t their dynamic. Len isn’t Barry’s sub. But they’ve discussed this. The things that serve Barry can, and _should_ , serve Len, too. Something about kneeling in the dark serves Len for the moment.

But Barry wants to know _what_ he’s kneeling over.

“Can I help you with something?”

“I need you,” Len says, voice soft but dangerous - so unlike any sub Barry has ever met, it makes him bite his lower lip to keep from grinning. “I need you to do something for me, Sir.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Punish me.”

Barry stops fussing. The room becomes colder, darker than before. “Repeat that for me, please?”

“I need you to punish me,” Len repeats through gritted teeth.

“And why do you need this?”

“Because I’m evil,” Len growls.

“How do you figure?”

“I’m a thief. And a _killer_.”

“You are,” Barry agrees matter-of-factly. There’s no denying that those things are a part of Len’s personality. Part of Len’s past. It would be a slap in the face to his husband’s intelligence and the hard work he’s put into redeeming himself to sweep those under the rug. _Confront them at every corner_ , _whenever they pop up,_ Barry told him the first few months they were together, when flashbacks and urges piled up in his brain and Barry would find him warming his favorite stool at _Saints and Sinners_ , trying to drink his anxiety away. That’s one of the reasons Barry introduced Len to the Dom/sub scene in the first place, in the hopes of keeping him away from the kinds of temptation that might land him in Iron Heights permanently, convicted of things even The Flash couldn’t swing getting him released from. _Confront them, accept them, then put them in their place_. “You _were_. But you’ve put those things behind you. And you’ve worked hard at it. So what’s happened in the past few hours to make you change your mind?”

Len raises an arm, holds something out to Barry - a folded-up clipping from a newspaper, it looks like. Barry takes it from him, fighting another smile. Most of the modern world gets their news from the Internet, but his husband still goes down to the corner store every morning for a daily paper.

Well, Barry is going to do everything in his power to ensure that _The Central City Citizen_ never goes under.

Barry unfolds it carefully. The clip has jagged edges. His husband probably tore it from its page instead of using a pair of scissors. Barry marvels at how neatly he accomplished it. The outer portion is an ad for a local furniture store, but on the other side, the part folded in and therefore protected, is the article Len had saved. Barry reads the header out loud.

_“Man fatally shot in alley way.”_

Barry glances Len’s way when he notices movement at his feet. Len bows his head, hands folded on his knees like he’s praying, but Barry knows better.

He’s thinking.

Thinking hard for a man in this position.

 _“_ _A man was found stabbed to death in an alley Tuesday evening, and police are investigating the killing as possibly gang-related_ _…”_ Barry skims the article, searching for pertinent information. _“The victim was identified as 33 -year-old Ricardo de Salva.”_

Barry looks to his husband for answers. Len doesn’t see the expression on Barry’s face with his eyes cast to the floor, but he doesn’t need to. He can probably feel Barry’s eyes burning through the top of his head.

“He was a good guy,” Len starts softly, “and I don’t say that often about anybody. Family man. Didn’t wanna be a criminal. I strong-armed him into it.” Len’s voice cracks. The sound reminds Barry of an old growth oak weathering a storm, the way it complains as the wind does its best to knock it over, but can only get it to bend. “He needed a couple bucks, just wanted to take care of his wife and kids. He did one job with us. Not our normal payout, but enough to keep a roof over their heads for a few more months. And he was fine with it - ready to roll and never look back. But after that, we kept him on the payroll anyway, had him run petty errands. I gave him a beeper, told him to call whenever I paged him _or else_.” The catch in Len’s voice returns. He clears it gruffly this time. “We didn’t need him. It was _amusing_ to have him around, acting as our gopher. When it stopped being amusing, I sort of forgot he existed. Always thought he made it out, but …”

Barry nods. He doesn’t ask Len to continue. He doesn’t need to hear any more. He folds the article up and hands it back to his husband, crouching an inch and holding it in his sight line until he reaches up and takes it.

“So you’re looking for penance? Is that what this is about?”

“Yes,” Len admits with a barely audible hiss, as if, of all the things he could ask his husband for, this is the farthest down on the list. “That’s what I want.”

“But I’m not your Dom.”

“No, you’re my husband!” Len snaps. “And you’ve Dominated me before!”

“That’s different! That dynamic is different! When we do that, we’re playing! It’s stress relief! And we have those parameters outlined! We know how far is too far!”

“But you could do it!”

“Yes, I could! But I’m not just going to break out a whip and some cuffs and beat you! There are steps we have to take! Discussions we need to have! Contracts we have to draw up!”

Len huffs under his breath and rises to his feet, the air around him dropping in temperature with every inch till he reaches his full height. “You’re not the only show in town, Red. There are clubs all over Central City, owned by guys who owe me favors. I’m sure there’ll be a Dom at one of them that will give me what I need.”

Barry swallows those words - spoken without any hint of warmth or compassion whatsoever - so hard his throat aches. He doesn’t know what to say. He never imagined it would come to this, not over _this_ of all things! “We’re adults,” he says without condescension, though Len might see things otherwise, “in an adult relationship. If that’s how you feel, you’re within your rights. I won’t … I won’t judge you for that.”

Len bares his teeth in anger. “I don’t want them, Red! I want you!”

“You have me! But what you’re asking …” Barry extends his hands with palms upturned, pleading for his husband to listen to reason “… is not something I’m willing to do right this second! We need to talk about this more. A _lot_ more!” He steps forward, puts his hands on his husband’s biceps and kneads gently. “I’m not saying no. Believe it or not, I understand why you might want to do this. I do. I’ve felt this way myself, that I’ve done so much more harm than good in my life that I deserve to have the shit kicked out of me. But it also seems to me like you’re doing this out of self pity.” Barry presses his forehead against Len’s, needing to be closer, needing more touch, and to look deeper in his husband’s eyes. “If I do this for you, it won’t bring Ricardo back. It won’t help his wife and kids. It won’t do anything but make you feel better, and I honestly don’t think it’ll do that.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Let’s make a plan,” Barry suggests. “Let’s write out a list of things that will actually solve the problem, not cover up how you feel. Because that won’t solve a thing. This pain and anger you feel, this hatred of yourself, will always be there, hiding underneath, waiting for its moment to throw a wrench in your sanity.”

Len sighs, drops slowly back to his knees. Reluctantly, Barry lets go so he can. “The problem is Ricardo’s dead. And if it hadn’t been for me, he might not be.”

“The key word there is _might,”_ Barry points out, holding to it hard. “You can’t make someone else’s mind up for them.”

“You can if you threaten them enough. If you threaten their life or … someone they love. And you have to admit, I have a talent for getting people to agree to pretty much anything.”

“I’ll give you that one,” Barry mutters, squelching the part of himself that occasionally makes him doubt his life choices - particularly his choice in spouses. The part that second-guesses whether or not he did the right thing by trusting Leonard Snart, regardless of how many times he’s proven he can be trusted, that he is a changed man. That he loves Barry Allen more than his own life and would do anything to protect him. “I suggest we start by attending Ricardo’s funeral … talk to his widow … make some kind of amends.”

“She won’t talk to me.” Len sniffs. “I know she won’t. She’ll probably try to have me arrested.”

“Luckily you have a friend or two on the force who’ll vouch for you,” Barry teases. It doesn’t land as he’d intended. “You can write her a note. I’ll take it to her if you think that will make her more comfortable.”

“I do,” Len admits. “Though, to be honest, it seems like the coward’s way out. I should go up to her, let her slug me.”

Barry rolls his eyes. Len does have a point, but he also has a flair for the dramatic.

Len exhales. The breath leaving his body slumps his shoulders, makes him look surrendered. “If I do this … if I go … will you go with me?”

“Oh, honey.” Barry puts a hand on Len’s head. Len leans towards him, rests his forehead against Barry’s thigh and hides his face in the denim of his jeans. Barry runs his nails lightly over Len’s scalp. This is a side of his husband he rarely sees, a side he associates with Len’s memories of his father; the man’s terrible, soul-crushing abuse; of a teenage Len raising his sister - traumas that Len has never gotten adequate help with even though Barry has offered time and time again to help him find it. Barry hopes this will be the positive step in the right direction he’s been waiting for. “Of course, I will.”

***

_Knock-knock-knock_

“Yeah?” Len grunts in frustration. “What is it?”

Barry opens the bathroom door a sliver and peeks around the edge. He sizes up his husband standing in front of the mirror, navigating the mechanics of a Windsor knot the same way he would any other technical task - with pursed lips and a tightly furrowed brow.

“May I come in?”

“Sure.” Len eyes his husband in the reflection and sighs. “Sorry I’m taking so long. This tie you bought me refuses to cooperate.”

“That’s all right.” Barry slides up behind him, pushing a wealth of off-colored jokes to the side. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“So you checkin’ up on me?” Len asks uncomfortably, his gaze flicking to his husband’s eyes, then back to his own reflection again. “Makin’ sure I’m not backing out?”

“No. I know you wouldn’t do that. You’re a man of your word. Actually …” Barry chews the inside of his cheek, not so much contemplating, but gauging “… I wanted to give you something.”

Len smirks. “I’m not sure this is the right time for a quickie, Red. I mean, we’re headed to a funeral and all. Might be considered in poor taste.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Here.” He shoves a document into Len’s hands, then turns Len towards him, taking over with the tie so his husband can read. “I drew this up last night. It’s a full Dom/sub contract …” Barry’s voice softens “… with a few addendums. Addendums that are time sensitive. We have to discuss the finer details together, re-visit your soft and hard limits, that sort of thing.” Barry fastens the tie into a Trinity knot, just to show up his husband, then smooths the tail down his chest. “You’re doing what we discussed. You’ve made a plan … a _good_ plan. But if this is what you feel you need, then read through this, sign on the bottom line, and I’ll give it to you.”

Len flips through the pages, eyebrows raised in surprise. Barry probably dashed this out in minutes, but Len wonders how long he’s been thinking about this. It’s incredibly thorough. “You’re willing to do this for me?”

“Yes, Len. I am.” Barry loops his arms around Len’s waist. “I love you. If you need this, then I would like to be what you need … if you’d let me.”

Len grins, draws his husband into his embrace and squeezes him tight. “ _You’re_ what I need, in more ways than one.” He buries his nose in his husband’s neck, breathes in deep the spicy scent of his cologne. “But …” He moves back a step but doesn’t leave his husband’s arms. He looks Barry in the eyes, holding him the way he does whenever he’s about to impart something important “… I’ve been doing some thinking and … I want to talk to someone. A---a shrink. Like you suggested. But not someone here. In another city. I don’t want to go to someone who knows me. Knows who I was. Could you help me find someone?”

“Absolutely,” Barry agrees with a smile that refuses to stop. He hugs Len again, with so much enthusiasm, a wave of electricity seeps through Barry’s skin and shocks his husband. Only a little. “I am so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” Len says, mildly embarrassed. Barry can hear the eye roll in his words. “For everything. For being willing to help me.”

“Hey. That’s what superhero husbands are for, right? I guess we won’t need this then …” Barry reaches for the contract but Len pulls it out of Barry’s reach. Barry watches Len roll the stapled pages together tightly, then slide it into his back pocket. A wicked grin quirks his lips as he leans into Barry’s ear and whispers:

“I’m not saying no.”


End file.
